You Can't Put Your Arms Around a Memory
by Wobble
Summary: George Weasley grieves. DH spoilers


**You Can't Put Your Arms Around a Memory**

[Author Wobble

[Rating PG (tame)

[Warnings _Deathly Hallows _spoilers, major character death

[Summary George Weasley grieves.

[Disclaimer Nothing here is mine, except the OC. All belongs to JK Rowling and subsequent publishing companies and agencies.

[Pairing George/OC

[Author's Note If you get spoiled, sorry. But, seriously, if you haven't finished DH by now, what have you been doing for a month? And have you avoided the internet the ENTIRE time?

[Inspiration: "You Can't Put Your Arms Around a Memory" by Johnny Thunders

_It doesn't pay to try,  
All the smart boys know why,  
It doesn't mean I didn't try,  
I just never know why.  
Feel so cold and all alone,  
Cause baby, you're not at home.  
And when I'm home  
Big deal, I'm still alone._

_Feel so restless, I am,  
Beat my head against a pole  
Try to knock some sense,  
down in my bones.  
And even though they don't show,  
The scars aren't so old  
And when they go,  
They let you know_

_You can't put your arms around a memory  
You can't put your arms around a memory  
You can't put your arms around a memory  
Don't try, don't try_

_You're just a bastard kid,  
And you got no name  
Cause you're living with me,  
We're one and the same_

_And even though they dont show,  
They scars aren't so old  
And when they go,  
They let you know_

_You can't put your arms around a memory  
You can't put your arms around a memory  
You can't put your arms around a memory  
Don't try, don't try_

_You can't put your arms around a memory  
You can't put your arms around a memory  
You can't put your arms around a memory  
Don't try, don't try_

* * *

George stumbled into the small flat him and Fred had shared above their shop on Diagon Alley. He paused in the entry way, staring at the disheveled mess – just as him and his brother had left it as they rushed to the fireplace, to floo to the Hog's Head. Order forms were all over the table, inventions of Fred's half finished in the corner, dirty dinner plates still in the sink. He closed the door behind him and, on his unsteady legs, made his way to the table.

He sank into a chair and stared at everything before him. And it hit him. It hit him hard, like a train smashing into a building. He spotted his brother's small, scribbled handwriting across a piece of parchment, half covered by an order form. Memories burst into his head – from when they were younger, laughing together in their shared bedroom, in their shared dormitory, in their shared apartment. His entire life, George had always had someone. He was never alone. He had his twin, his portable best friend. He had never imagined life without him. And suddenly, it was very real. Fred wasn't coming back. Fred was gone, lifeless on the floor of the Great Hall, his mother sobbing with her arms splayed over him.

"How could this happen?" George muttered out loud, running his hand over the vacant place where his ear was supposed to be. The shameful tears sprouted in his eyes – tears he felt he wasn't supposed to shed. The flat was cold, without the fire. They always had a fire going – Fred had made sure, as he was better with charms.

Suddenly, the grid sprung to life, bursting with brilliant, green frames. Into frame came a girl, spinning quickly. She was small and petite, with very flat, very lifeless dark blonde hair; her eyes were large and round, the color of ashes. She rushed out and stared at George.

"Oh, George," she said. "I came as quickly as I got the letter – from your mother… She wanted me to go to the Burrow, but I knew you would be here. I'm so sorry, George." She threw herself at him, hugging him around the shoulders, her knees banging into the linoleum floor. "I got the letter Fred sent – to come help you at Hogwarts. I flooed as soon as I could – but the barman, Aberforth? He said I couldn't – that something was wrong with the portal into the school. And I sat there and waited and waited and waited…"

George just sat shaking. The girl, realizing that he was stunned and not able to say a word, stood up and smoothed the front of her shockingly green robes. "I'll make you a cup of tea, alright? And maybe then, we can…talk, if you need to. But if you don't want me here, just say so and I'll leave right away," she said, all very quickly. George looked up and shook his head, indicating he would like her to stay.

As the girl, a shop girl they had hired named Anna, busied herself making tea, George slowly began to move all the papers on the table into a pile in the corner. He had no idea where he would go with the business…. But he was glad Anna was there. It was better than sitting in silence by himself, crying like a little nancy. Anna had always been great friends with him and Fred, making them dinners when they were tired of take out, helping with the love potion line. She was sweet and helpful and all together a great person.

She was a rather incapable witch though. She was French by way of Oxford and though she had attended Beauxbatons, she had dropped out in her fourth year because she found the school insufferable. So she worked small jobs around Diagon Alley until George and Fred had hired her full time to work in the shop.

Anna was an irrepressible spirit – she voiced her ideas about the love potion line, aimed at females particularly, that helped the line become the success that it was. Fred had always been quite fond of her – the way she would clean their apartment for them when they were busy in the shop and didn't need her, and the way she would organize the shelves just how they liked downstairs. George all of a sudden found himself flooded with gratitude as Anna sat down across from him and scooted a large cup of tea across the table. Her hands were shaking and her lips were quivering; she was fighting back tears, as he was.

"Drink, it'll make you feel better," Anna whispered. George's hands shakily grabbed at the cup and brought it to his lips. It tasted bitter, but perhaps it wasn't the tea or Anna's poor skills: perhaps it was just the fact that Fred and George would never sit up late, drinking tea mixed with firewhiskey, dreaming up grand new ideas for the shop. It made him feel angry, bitter, sad, and empty all at once. He sat the cup back down and stared at it.

He looked up finally, to look into Anna's eyes: her great, big, gray eyes, brimmed with tears, shining out from her pale, round face. She wasn't ugly, but she wasn't exactly the prettiest girl on the block; however, she held a deep loyalty to the twins that she could never express and George felt a swell of loyalty for her because of it. Unlike most shop owners on Diagon Alley, who had shirked her and cast her aside for her poor skills as a witch, they had accepted her ways of doing things, using only simple spells and the rest with her hands. George stared into her eyes and thought perhaps, just perhaps, if his heart wasn't already in tiny pieces at the bottom of his stomach, he could fall in love with her.

"Are you alright?" Anna asked, her voice sounding as if she was being strangled by an invisible cord. George tried to nod, but his hands started shaking more violently when they thought of it. One hand jerked suddenly and the cup of scalding hot tea tipped over onto Anna's hands. She jumped and shrieked.

George pulled out his wand quickly and doused her hands with cold water. She was staring at him, for several seconds, as if reading him like a store window; then she grabbed a towel from the counter and sopped up the tea.

"Just … just an accident, it's alright," she said. "No harm, no foul, no worries…" It was a phrase she said often and one of the reason's Fred had liked her. She took nothing too seriously.

"Anna, I'm sorry," he said, trying to help sop up the mess, but his hands were shaking too violently. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

Anna let the towel fall out of her hands and suddenly, she was hugging him around the shoulders again, her knees hard against the floor. "You're brother just died, George… that's what's wrong and it's perfectly fine. It's perfectly fine." He was shaking and listening and trying hard not to cry like an infant. "George, it's okay to cry. You loved him. I know you did. It's okay." And then it started and he thought it would never stop – tears streaming down his face, emptying out of him, emptying the void inside his chest where his brother's voice was supposed to be, where that wonderful laugh was supposed to emanate and echo forever and ever. It felt like something had been ripped from him – like someone had taken both his arms. It felt like his edges were raw, like his heart couldn't beat, like someone had told him to run and tied his legs together. It was horrible pain and relief and sadness and grief and tears falling like twin waterfalls: big, soppy, wet tears that soaked into the lime green shoulder of Anna's robes and all she said was, "it's okay, it's okay" and patted his back like they had known each other forever and a half.

* * *

George woke up in his bed, comfortable, but unsure of how he had gotten there. His face felt red and puffy, engorged like someone had punched him. His head was pounding painfully; it felt like his forehead was on fire. The door opened slowly, letting light flood into the darkness.

Anna walked in, still wearing her bright green robes. She was carrying a tray with breakfast on it – it smelled delicious, but George couldn't find the hunger inside of him anymore. It was like he had lost the will. He sat up and tried to smile at her, but all he could muster was just to twitch his lips slightly. Anna sat the tray down on his lap and then sat into the desk chair that was nearby.

He looked down at the plate – eggs, bacon, and two slices of toast. He hadn't eaten a real breakfast in what felt like ages. He carefully raised a piece of bacon and took a bite. It tasted perfect – just how he liked it, not too crunchy and not too soft. He gobbled down the rest of the food in what seemed like record time – all while Anna watched.

"I tried to busy myself, because I wasn't sure if you wanted breakfast. So I cleaned the kitchen, the bathroom, and the entire shop, and then organized it all. But I have to ask, you know, even if you don't want to answer. Are you feeling better?" She asked. He looked up, finally, as he was gulping down orange juice. "Not so…sad?"

"Well, I don't know, I suppose I still feel sad," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "But … it's like, you know, it doesn't _hurt _anymore." He looked up and nodded, as if to reassure himself. He wriggled uncomfortably. He felt like he was grimy and dirty – his red hair was stuck to his head, matted with grease and what was probably blood.

"Well, that's good," Anna said. "You're mother sent a letter – addressed to both of us. That woman's smart, she knew I was here… but anyway, she wants us to go out to the Burrow today. They're – they're burying _him_ and Remus and Dora, all near each other in the cemetery nearby and … of course, you should be there." Anna's eyes sprouted tears again. "It's not till around 5 though, so there'll be a little dinner afterwards, but I figured I should just…tell you now."

"Yes, yes, of course I need to go," George said, his mind whirring. "…Did – did you love Fred?"

The question came suddenly, like water bursting through a broken dam. Anna's eyes widened.

"I'm sorry – I didn't mean to ask –" George tried to correct himself, but Anna raised her hand and smiled, very vaguely.

"I – I had a lot of affection for him, like … like a brother," Anna said. "After Gareth died, he was there for me." Gareth had been her Muggle-born boyfriend who had been on the run from snatchers since mid-August. He had been killed in December. "But did I love him? I don't know. One of those … many unanswered questions I suppose."

She reached out then and touched George's hand. Unlike she had expected, George didn't move; he left her fingers grip his and he nodded at her, trying to smile once again. But it was a faded look of happiness – much different from his normal smile. It was a vague ghost of what it had once been. A memory. A shadow.

* * *

Anna had gone home around noon to shower and change her robes, and to allow George to do the same. He washed his hair and his face and tried to look presentable, but as he did so, he supposed that this was his grieving phase. It felt like there was no purpose in looking nice anymore. His best friend was gone. He realized that when Anna was there, he had something to distract him – someone that reminded him both of Fred and his mother, who cooked good food and didn't ask him how he was feeling too often or get too touchy feely.

She was exactly who he wanted around him right now – someone who understood his feelings because she, like him, had lost someone she had loved with half - no not half - her _entire_ heart. George found it unbearable to walk past Fred's bedroom. Inside, Fred had pictures all over of him and George at various ages – all smiling, winking, and acting like buffoons. Ghosts of what he had once been. George found it unbearable to see himself smile. It felt like he would never laugh like Fred had laughed before he died again.

Anna returned around 4, just in time for them to go to the Burrow together – via Floo, of course.

They came spinning, in the same grate, holding hands rather awkwardly, into the kitchen of the Burrow. Over all, the mood was gloomy for obvious reasons. George had no idea what he had been expecting, but it wasn't the scene the greeted him: people embracing one another, too many tears, too many memories, pictures of Fred and him, _smiling,_ everywhere.

Harry was standing with Ginny in the corner, holding her hand as she cried mindlessly into a napkin. Ginny, seeing that George had stepped out of the grate, abandoned Harry and ran forward, throwing herself into George's arms. She sputtered out wordless noises – or perhaps, they were words muddled by tears. Either way, George rubbed her back silently and released her, finally, as she retreated back to Harry.

"This is Anna. She worked at the shop, with Fred and I," George said, his voice shaking. Bill came forward first to shake her hand, followed by Fleur. Bill looked sullen and moody, his face thinner than George had remembered from only the day before. Or perhaps – everyone just looked a bit older. Yes, that was it – the grief, the fight, everything in the past year had aged them all. Bill was followed by Charlie, who instead of shaking Anna's hand, wrapped her up into a bear hug. He did the same to George. He whispered into George's (good) ear that he was sorry and if George ever needed anyone, he was just an owl away. Ron came forward next, hugging George and then greeting Anna. Hermione hugged them both. Percy nervously shook Anna's hand and then awkwardly hugged George, who had, despite always disliking Percy, forgiven him for every stupid thing he had ever done. He forgave him because Percy had made sure Fred's body was okay when the wall crumbled. He had made sure it wasn't used for Death Eater purposes. And George was thankful for that.

Finally, Mrs. Weasley, overcome by grief, rushed forward and hugged Anna and George at once. She smelled of smoke and cooking, as if she had occupied the last hours with cooking to keep her mind off of the death. She shook and cried against them both, finally stepping back. Mr. Weasley put his hands on his shoulders and smiled weakly at George.

"We just hope _you're _okay, George," he said, trying to keep his voice composed. George nodded. "And you too, Anna, we know you cared about him." Anna nodded, silently, her face very stony and sullen.

"Well, let's – let's go outside to the cemetery… Hagrid's waiting there." Even in despair, Mrs. Weasley managed to sound very calm.

Once outside and down the road not far, at the cemetery that George had always been fascinated by as a child, he realized there were more people there than he had thought. He found himself being hugged tightly by friend after friend – Lee Jordan, who asked if he could help run the business; Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas, both of whom also looked much older than the day before; Neville Longbottom; Luna Lovegood; the Patil twins; Lavender Brown, who was heavily bandaged and with her weary looking parents; and what looked like the entire (surviving) Order of the Phoenix and the entire student body of Hogwarts who had ever attended school with the twins.

It was then that George realized that the caskets were open. He sat in the front row, between Anna and Bill, staring at his brother's peaceful face – a smile still playing on his lips. George started shaking again, feeling nervous and cold and jittery. A wizard stood up to say some words, but they were empty and fell around George without leaving any meaning.

"Would anyone like to say a few words about Remus, Dora, or Fred?" The small wizard asked. George closed his eyes and heard, quite amazingly, someone stand up and move to the front. When he opened his eyes again, it was Anna. He looked to the seat next to him – it was empty.

"I didn't know Remus or Dora, but I knew they were good people. George, and Fred, told me," Anna said. "I'm not a very good witch. I'm actually quite horrible at magic. I'm part-French, so … the English don't like me very much. The wizarding community finds me hard to deal with because I'm not good at magic. So … trying to find a job in Diagon Alley was much like a prisoner of war asking the opposing side for help. It didn't work. But Fred, and George, hired me and helped me through some very difficult times. Fred was like my brother. He took care of me. He was there for me. He was special. His laugh was like listening to beautiful singing. It was like listening to the wind through the trees. Peaceful. Always happy. Without worry. I wasn't in love with him, but I loved him. He was an amazing human being, not just as a wizard – but just as a human being, with a heart too big for one person. Like I said, I didn't know Remus or Dora, but as I can see, they loved each other very much. And so I pray for them as well. I'm sure they were beautiful and that they were good and that they were brave – far braver than I could have ever been."

Anna stepped down then and walked slowly back to her sit. The next twenty minutes were full of silence – the sound of sobbing, of people whispering prayers, of shivering, shaking, and confusion. Anna sat down next to George and took his hand in hers. It felt right – it felt perfect to hold her hand.

The caskets were closed and lowered into the ground. George felt tears again as he watched his brother sink. It was like saying goodbye, but without hearing it back. He had never been able to tell Fred what he felt. To say he loved him and he always wished he could be a better brother and he wished he was smarter because he had no _clue _as to where to go with Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. George leaned to place his head on Anna's shoulder and cry, because around him he knew everyone else was sobbing – Ron and Hermione, Harry and Ginny, Percy, Bill, Fleur, Charlie, his parents, everyone was crying as they all had to say goodbye.

When it rains, it rains into rivers, trickling and creating waves. These waves die into the river and move on, become part of something bigger. Just as when there is death, one must always move on, not dwell on the circumstances. One can always be sad – but one cannot live in the sadness of that memory alone. One must continue to remember the happy memories.

* * *

George, with the help of Lee Jordan and Anna, turned WWW into an even bigger business. Just as the world does not cease to be serious when somebody laughs, the world does not cease to be funny just because someone dies. George held onto his memory – held it tight and never let it leave him, because he loved it for what it was worth and he realized that his brother had given his life for a cause that he felt enough to _die _for.

And George and Anna? With his tattered heart starting to mend, he found himself falling in love with her. It was like leaves falling on an autumn day – beautiful and hopeless, but he loved her. They got married five years later, on a sunny night in June, in the Burrow. And they had a baby boy, named Fred, who had red hair and large eyes the color of ashes, and a smile that made the world spin faster.

And sometimes, in mid-June, when the nights were dark and sticky, George's mind would flash back to that night when the greatest Wizarding battle was fought, where many brave, loyal wizards gave their lives to save the world, to save the ones they loved, to save life as they knew it, for the sake of the future generations, and he thought of Fred – smiling and young, his red hair a flash as he laughed at Percy's joke. And George hugged Anna a little bit tighter and fell asleep, remembering all the times that him and Fred had laughed together.


End file.
